Here it is, the long overdue Christmas special edition!

Since my last post it’s been much of the same with a few additions here and there. I went to my first South African wedding! I wasn’t sure what to expect when I turned up, but even before it began there were lots of differences that were obvious. For one, anyone can turn up so it’s impossible to gatecrash a wedding here, secondly there was the unfortunate unscheduled ‘load-shedding’ (power cut for those in the UK) which warranted a trip to a nearby farm to borrow a generator so the wedding wouldn’t be in the dark and without a band. After the generator was sorted and the arrival of the bridal party the wedding begun with dancing! There were around six couples that did a dance up the aisle before the bride and bridesmaids entered, after that it was pretty much the same ceremony as in the UK, except the ring bearers who also do a dance up the aisle. Being their summer here it is also their wedding season, so a lot of conversation has revolved around them naturally. Something new I learned was the tradition of lobola, meaning ‘bride price’. The prospective husband pays the fiancé’s family a certain amount of money (couples I know said they had to save for months or even years!) that’s supposed to bring the two families together, but it’s become more controversial as some have been demanding lobola just for the money. When most in the country were still farming, the groom could give the bride’s family livestock (around 8 or so cows, depending on negotiations). Since most families aren’t farmers by vocation this is much harder to do as instead of giving cows the groom gives cash. Not ideal if you’re saving for a wedding and setting up a home! To make it easier for the couple the bride has a Kitchen Tea Party, like a more civilised bachelorette party where guests bring everything you’d need for your kitchen. Personally I think Kitchen Tea Parties are something the UK should have, they sound amazing.

Asides from attending weddings and general socialising I’ve been enjoying the copious amounts of sunny days (a little too much at times), cycling around the dam that is looking substantially fuller with all the thunderstorms, and feeling very ‘country’ by helping myself to all the fresh and home-grown produce my friends have in their gardens while their away. Who could say no to perfectly ripe and humongous peaches or highly coveted raspberries?

Of course not to ignore the strangeness that has been my Christmas this year I shall try my best to explain why it has felt so alien. In effect I’ve had two Christmas days this year; one with the family I live with which was on Christmas Eve, and of course Christmas day itself. It’s impossible to generalise South African traditions around Christmas because of the multitude of different cultures, and they are so extremely different. Some families do not give presents at all, and they see no need to go hunting for a specific type of tree, cut it down and drag it into your house before decorating it with lights and baulbauls. Christmas day for them is stripped down to what’s really important – eating together as a family, and of course celebrating the birth of Jesus. It may not feel very Christmassy to me with the absence of gaudy and brightly coloured decorations everywhere, but it is a nice relief from the usual stress of buying presents for people and hectic traffic getting to anywhere that has shops. As I think I mentioned in a previous post, Basotho families will often give their young children new clothing at Christmas to last them the year. Other families make the effort to have Christmas a tree and swap presents and follow more European traditions, albeit in shorts and t-shirts! Sadly the excessive heat does mean that Christmas jumpers are rendered redundant, and because it’s Clarens the pressure for men to wear a singing Christmas tie is non-existent. Secondly there is the never-ending debate of what to eat on Christmas day, to have a full roast with all the trimmings, or a braai (BBQ), or something else altogether. I managed to experience both with a stomach busting six-course meal at the Courtyard on Christmas Eve, and my first potjie (a stew cooked in a cast iron pot over embers) for Christmas Day lunch. A yummy alternative that gave me some relief in the knowledge I didn’t have to face another huge meal, given that I was still full from the day before. For those who know my family the juxtaposition between my relaxing and eating lunch in the sunshine outside in S.A and the ‘usual’ feeding of the masses with exploding things for entertainment and chasing naughty children round the house most the day… it felt strange to say the least!

Bring on NYE celebrations with don pedro drinks, a braai and wonderful company! 

What a busy month it’s been, and probably the most memorable Bonfire Night I’ll have for a long while. What happens when you mix overly enthusiastic British people, explosives and pyromaniacs together? One angry neighbour and a visit from the police apparently! Basically… we’d spent a hilarious day trying to explain to the kids what Bonfire Night was all about to which they responded, “so you make a person and celebrate burning it because someone tried to kill the king hundreds of years ago?” Did really put it in perspective, but we continued nonetheless. After raiding the recycling bins for materials we convened later in a large garden where it felt appropriate to pretend it was actually cold and eat the traditional fare of burgers/hotdogs etc. Sadly the South African weather felt it appropriate to rain on our parade so to speak and made it necessary to douse our firewood with petrol and use countless matches before we had a fire. What some of us didn’t know when we put our Guy Fawkes on the fire was that a few felt it would liven things up by putting bangers and firecrackers in partitions of the costume. Gave us quite the shock! Next came the ‘fireworks’ (if they can be called that) which consisted primarily of very loud bangers. Soon after came the highly disgruntled neighbour telling us to ‘please desist immediately’, and then shortly after that the police showing a generalised type of concern after they heard the bangs from the other side of the town! Ironically we had in our party the person responsible for local security. 

Something new I’ve learnt this month about the culture is the naming ceremony of new wives. When a woman gets married, it is traditional for the husband’s grandparents or parents to decide on a new name for her. What makes it such an important ceremony is that the name decides the name of the first child. For example if someone was called Matshidiso, the ‘ma’ stands for ‘mother of’, and then the child’s name would be Tshidiso. The name is often influenced by events or characteristics that occur around the time of the marriage or pregnancy. Say, if it was during the rainy season the wife might be called Mapula (pula means rain). I thought this was a rather risky business as surely you couldn’t count on the sex of the first child so how do you decide on the name, but I’ve been told a lot of the names are genderless. While I’m on the subject of names and their meanings a group of us had a very interesting conversation about what peoples’ names were in English, and what English names would be in Sesotho. We had a ‘baggage’, someone’s first and last name meant road and cat etc. and I found out my name would be Palesa, meaning flower.

Despite my approbations about the food, I also tried a koeksister after one was offered to me. A sickly sweet sugar soaked donut that’s fairly greasy still. It was as unpleasant as it sounds but I can at least say I tried! To add to my list of new foods that I’ve tried I can add dipabi (a powder you eat that’s made of ground mielie, sugar and salt) it wasn’t completely unpleasant, but trying to eat a powder without any water was a little awkward to say the least. Another traditional Basotho dish I had was mahleu, which is a sweetened porridge made with sorghum. Definitely won’t be having that again- it was like having a wheat/oaty-ish tasting thick smoothie. Definitely pushed the boat out and also had jwala jwala, a traditional beer made from fermented sorghum that is given as a ‘you are welcome here’ kind of thing. I’m not a beer drinker at the best of times, but because I was offered it by the chief of the nearby Basotho cultural village you can’t really decline without being extremely rude. Again, it had a thick texture and tasted like yeast (not the enticing freshly baked bread smell, but just yeast) mixed with yoghurt. At least I can say I tried! Maybe try an ‘easier’ new food next, like ostrich.

One more week to go now until the school breaks up for the Christmas/summer holidays, which will be great; 6 weeks of lie-ins, creativity and long walks or cycling. Does also mean many of my friends are returning to England for a month which is a shame, but a good number of families are around for the majority and I’m going to try and get to Cape Town for a bit so I can waddle with the penguins, drink cheap wine, see the sights and swim in the sea, hurrah!

Well to my list of novel experiences I can now add ‘breaking in’, and it wasn’t into my own home either! Spiked metal fences surround a large number of houses and properties in Clarens, and a percentage of these have electronic gates. This can be problematic during a thunderstorm as it can blow the fuse to the gate and trap you inside your own home until an electrician can come to fix it. It is also problematic if you happen to be house-sitting/pet-sitting for a friend and the fob they gave you to the gate has no battery in…and they aren’t your regular AA batteries which can be hard enough to get hold of here haha. Thankfully house keys are not yet electronic (as far as I know), so I only had to get over this 6ft tall fence with jagged metal bits on top without tearing a limb off. After unsuccessfully trying to climb a fir tree parallel to the gate (curse my short height and someone’s foresight in cutting off the tree’s lower branches), I returned to the front of the property and only just succeeded in shimmying over while trying to placate their intimidatingly large dog that was making his displeasure clearly known. It’s a miracle none of the neighbours saw me and I’m glad they didn’t as it certainly couldn’t have looked good.

I’ve not tried any new ethnic food such as walkie-talkies or koeksisters (for those of you who watched this year’s Great British Bake-Off, it featured in the doughnut week): a cholesterol-exploding doughnut that is plaited, deep-fried then soaked in warm syrup. The idea of having one to myself frightens me, and I’ve had it on good authority that they are at their best when fresh, else it’s just a glob of sugary dough that only tastes of sugar. Ostrich and springbok are definitely a possibility though.

This week I was faced with the undeniable reality that a notable percentage of the locals still use witchdoctors when there were concerns that a child in school was wearing something around the top of his arm. I've certainly heard conversations about land being burnt to get rid of 'curses' put upon properties by disgruntled neighbours who've seen a witchdoctor, and ceremonies that endorse ancestral worship with rituals claiming to draw power or help from the bones of dead relatives, but the association of wearing a band round the arm, ankle or waist with witchcraft certainly never crossed my mind. I'd forgotten about this all when I wore an anklet to work and was repeatedly questioned by various children as to where the anklet came from and who gave it to me. Will have to avoid doing that in future!

In other news I’m starting to get used to the frequent thunderstorms, though it has made me question my sanity a few times. I am constantly doubting my eyesight and wondering whether the lights did just dim a little momentarily, or I blinked and forgot. Being able to hear the thunder before the storm arrives is another object of humour to me, as though the storms have their own Jaws theme tune = shark thing going on. Hearing of temperatures getting near to 0’C back home in England is only serving to heighten the disorientation my body is feeling right now, when I’m wandering around in shorts and t-shirts. I beginning to wonder how December is ever going to feel Christmassy without Costa’s seasonal salted caramel/cinnamon hot chocolates, Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park, the weeks spent in anticipation of the ever elusive snow-days, or any number of things I’ve come to associate Christmas with. Now faced with the prospect of having what is the summer holiday over here during Christmas feels absurd; six weeks of braais (BBQs), sunshine soaked walks and near daily thunderstorms with a distinct lack of Christmas spirit amongst the locals. Apparently Christmas trees aren’t so big in Basotho culture though they are more of a tradition in Afrikaans families. So yes, I will be sad that I’m not at home over Christmas but then again I recognise that it would be missing an opportunity to see more of South Africa, and experiencing it from a different point of view. Reading a good book whilst sunbathing (doused in factor 50 if the rumours of the heat are true) will be a good perspective to begin with.

Hopefully before the Christmas/summer holidays I’ll be able to climb Mt Horeb again and attempt reaching it’s summit, though it will be necessary this time round to be aware of any snakes due to the warmer weather. With any luck it will be possible to take photos of the landscape from up high so I can show you just how much the view changes after a bit of rain. It’s become all to clear why some people are tempted to burn the land (albeit with great care and caution) before the end of the winter as it makes the new grass to grow far quicker after rainfall. The juxtaposition is shown quite well on Mt Horeb where a good half of it burnt and is now well on its way to becoming a luscious green colour, and the unburnt half is only green in patches.

The holidays are officially over now for me after a week of enjoying the sunshine that is typical for Clarens and a week in the unexpectedly green and rainy place that is St Lucia. I made the most of my free time with multifarious walks and cycles around Clarens that went some way towards improving my non-existent tan, helping organise resource cupboards at work which threw up the strange discovery of a science experiment book…that was my brother’s when he was 10…which was 15 years ago. If ever there were a perfect example of Freud’s unheimlich, opening a book on the other side of the world that’s over 15 years old with your mother’s handwriting in is it. Finding a clarinet in one of the cupboards was also a pleasant surprise and I had a quick tootle to make sure it worked before replacing it.

I’ve also been playing tennis more than I’ve done in years (which isn’t saying much as I haven’t played it since P.E in secondary school), and let’s just say I’ve a lot of practice to do! Thankfully, my lack of skill in tennis playing has been compensated by some level of competence in game nights where sheer violence, shouting and frustrated cries follow the game that is nertz. From the occasional slaps and name calling to accidental facial punches it certainly eliminates the need to watch action movies!

Sadly with the arrival of the school holidays and my cheeky extension of it with a trip to St Lucia my Sotho hasn’t improved much, if at all. I can sometimes remember the word for listen? Alas, my knowledge of the Basotho culture also hasn’t made any headway either. However, during the 620km long car journey to St Lucia I experienced what I could only describe as a sort of reverse culture shock as we neared larger cities, i.e. Durban. The sight of a train-track felt so alien and out of place in my experiences of South Africa, and seeing more than 10 cars on the road at one time felt like a traffic-jam. And the sea! It was so pleasant to hear the sound of waves crashing, and an even greater surprise to feel how warm it was in comparison to my native chilly Atlantic Ocean. Because of the difference in altitude between Clarens and St Lucia, the humidity levels were significantly higher by the coast and made even the gloomiest days warm enough for shorts and t-shirts. It also meant everything was a bright green without the tell-tale scars on the landscape of wildfires that are common higher up, and super-sized or brightly coloured. Gigantic palm trees, a multitude of hibiscus plants, freakishly sized flying beetles and frightening huge insects were wherever you looked.

Undeterred by the weather, the group I went on holiday with embraced our British heritage and ignored the rain and wind we’re so used to back home. We thoroughly enjoyed a blustery boat tour of the estuary in St Lucia and were rewarded with close encounters of the fauna and flora including a shark, hippos and a giant kingfisher. Thankfully our trip to the Hluhluwe and Imfolozi Game Reserve was joined by glorious sunshine and enabled some fantastic photographing opportunities of the landscape and animals. At one point on the journey we were actually able to see three of the Big Five standing in the same place and rotating. Behind us was a herd of buffalo, in the distance crossing the river was a whole family of elephants (babies included), in front of us was an island of vultures who fancied themselves important enough to make an appearance in the panoramic of iconic animals, and to our right basking in the sun underneath a tree was a lioness also admiring the view. Throughout the rest of the day we were blessed with incredibly close encounters of various rhinos (no more than 10 ft away), elephants, giraffes, countless buck, warthogs, zebras and baboons. They were all very kind and posed for the camera with smiles and what felt like practised stances. Cape Vidal was next on our list of places to visit, and again our car journey was occupied by staring out of the window trying to spot animals, and interrupted by shouts of ‘stop!’ and ungainly uphill reverses to stare at kudus, stripy or horned nyalas (depending on the sex), more impala and what I can only describe as miniature red deer whose name I’ve forgotten. Stops at viewing points fraught with expectation were rewarded with sightings of fisher eagles, more hippos and when eating lunch whilst avoiding the rain at the beach we were even graced by fleeting glimpses and spouts of water from whales.

Impromptu visits to the nearby butterfly dome and cheese farm provided light entertainment and more wildlife sightings such as sunbirds, and the less glamorous goat. Overall, besides ooh-ing and ahh-ing (and a few ewws too) over impressive animals there was plentiful card playing, reading, relaxing, walking and haggling done in the general location. What more could you ask for from a holiday?

I realised the other day I still haven’t properly explored Clarens, which feels almost comical. Two new girls arrived last week and they’re telling me about shops in Clarens and if I like them, and I can only reply I wouldn’t know! Determined to make my own homemade bread on a regular basis, and therefore decided it was nigh on time to finally explore the infamous Purple Onion deli. I can only describe it as a culinary Aladdin’s cave in a place like Clarens: sun-dried tomatoes, posh chocolate truffles, harissa paste etc. It seemed to have it all (besides the ever elusive goat’s cheese, sadly). As a result of a successful shop I was able to make a very tasty loaf of sun-dried tomato and rosemary bread. Not quite sure that Paul Hollywood would’ve approved of its texture, but it made marvellous cheese on toast! I also passed up the opportunity to try ostrich steak the other day, but after comparing someone one’s to my traditional steak, I was still content with a slab of beautiful medium-rare cooked cow. 

It’s been a busy few weeks with our first ‘Come Dine with Me’ styled evenings in Clarens. The first night was fantastic; although everyone knows everyone else it allowed us to have great banter, but we were all quiet when the English chocolate mints were revealed. Definitely a showstopper move, and impromptu entertainment was provided when two people I work with tried the After Eight Mint game where you have to put one on your forehead and wiggle it down into your mouth without using your hands. It will be interesting to see what happens when we see the final edited ‘episode’ as we are scoring one another in secret. The second night will be tomorrow and will be a marvellous end to the week that has included the school’s long-anticipated Cultural Evening (in no less than three different languages!) which included sea shanties, rainbow songs, Afrikaans pop songs, traditional dances, star-dances, poetry reading etc. and was super (photos and video clips to follow). It was also Heritage Day this week, which justified a day off work — though I have yet to fully investigate what it’s all about— lots of braais across the country, and afforded the opportunity of seeing the internationally known Drakensberg Boys Choir which exceeded all expectations and had a very diverse programme which included old European classics, traditional South African songs, and a good ole bit of welly slapping, stomping and clapping. The enthusiastic grandparents sitting next to us who couldn’t clap in time definitely added to my enjoyment of the performances!

To think that in all my time here I can count the number of times it’s rained on one hand (just)! I officially experienced my first proper African thunderstorm, though some locals would dispute this as it was puny in comparison to what it could be, a 2/10 for effort. However, it still meant unplugging everything from sockets and sitting indoors in comfort whilst watching multiple strikes of lightning bounce from one mountain to the other, hopefully my camera will have caught some decent photos !

It’s only one more week until term finishes now, and I can’t help but feel a week’s break between the terms is not enough when the existence of the half-term is but a myth. However, the promise of a short final term and a week of fun activities/class trips definitely makes it more palatable. Knowing that my holiday to St Lucia is very quickly coming up and affords the luxury of an extra week off is certainly the cherry on top of the cake. 

It’s now officially September and the summer is well and truly on its way. Hurray, an end to dust getting everywhere and the endless need to put on or take off layers!  

New experiences since my last post include climbing up a mountain (Mt. Horeb, which looms over all of Clarens and can be seen from my bedroom window), awkwardly changing at the top of a mountain after doing the ice-bucket challenge at the top while hoping no one was using binoculars, and having my photo taken purely because of the colour of my skin and hair. The new food I’ve tried this time is skambana (I am purely guessing on its spelling and I’m sure someone will correct me). It consists of a generous chunk of bread hollowed out, traditionally with acha (?) – a spicy and vinegary condiment – lining the bottom, followed by a Russian sausage, spiced chips, cheese and a slice of polony before replacing the bread that was taken out to create a monstrous ‘sandwich’. What was it like? Trying to eat it was like trying to eat a highly stacked burger, that is, you can’t without it going everywhere! I did give the acha a go but we couldn’t be friends, more from the flavour as opposed to its spiciness. Will have to think of more new culinary adventures I could do soon, with the very firm exclusion of ‘Walkie-Talkies’. For those of you who have not heard of these, they are the cooked heads and feet of chicken, hence the imaginative name. In addition to changing on top of a mountain, I had the very novel and surreal experience of trying on clothes in a shop when 'the lion sings tonight' starts playing; it would be strange enough if this happened back in England, but you have to laugh and appreciate the irony of it in South Africa.

I’ve also been lucky enough to start working alongside a group of wonderful ladies from the church with the People of Hope project. The project provides physical, emotional and spiritual support to a range of people in the local townships whether it’s medical care, food, cleaning or prayer free of charge. My involvement has up until now been very restricted because of the language barrier but I’m hoping being immersed in it with the help of the team will soon change this. Having been around the school for over a month the kids are confusing me less often with all the other teachers, and I will regularly be hailed with ‘Teacher Rosie!’ from Foundation Phase children whilst hurling themselves from the jungle gym/squealing as they try to climb up me for a hug or piggy-back. It’s unfortunate that I have yet to learn most of their names in return though! My role in the school has definitely evolved to be giving a lot of support to children struggling with literacy or numeracy skills for various reasons, and I feel really blessed that they’ve not shown (one certain child excluded) any unwillingness to learn or moodiness, which has made everyone’s lives a bit easier. With the end of the school term looming it’s also created a sudden splurge of activity and bustling over all those kinds of things schools do, but there’s now a week’s break in October to look forward to and after that an exotic trip to St Lucia (in South Africa, not the Caribbean) which is on the North-East coast. It will be so nice to see the sea again, alongside the strong possibility of seeing hippos and other large mammals.

This last week in particular has been very busy for Clarens and the surrounding areas because of multiple huge bush fires that have popped up and decimated anything in its path. Even Mt Horeb didn’t escape and was quite literally lit up like a Christmas tree where the line of fire snaked round like fairy lights. I’ve almost felt more at home with the regular wop-wop of helicopters or planes that were carrying water to fight the fires. Now that they are all over it’s decidedly quiet again and the landscape has a definite singed look to it, but apparently this will just mean rapid growth when it does rain.  You can almost see now a faint tinge of green in places as tiny shoots of grass are appearing here and there, and the township is beginning to look very pretty with the amount of blossom trees that are planted around.

I don't think my Sesotho vocabulary has improved very much, whilst my German ironically has thanks to my German friend Danny. It also appears that there are quite a few different handshakes around which are always good to know about. Upon racking my brain for other newfound cultural knowledge I can't come up with anything other than that in South Africa it's men before women (unless you are married to an English woman, then you learn the epithet of 'happy wife, happy life', or at least the benefits of a healthy balance).

As quite a few have been asking, here are some of the things I’m loving and hating about South Africa:

Loving:

Reliability of sunshine and heat everyday           

General friendliness of everyone you meet

Abundance of scrumptious places to eat out

Gorgeous walks nearby

Hating:

The size of hills and cycling up them

Lack of English chocolate

The effect of altitude on my baking!

Unreliable/unpredicatble postal service

It’s nearly a month that I’ll have been in Clarens and I’m no longer the new girl with the addition of someone from Germany. It’s been a few weeks full of quite significant moments actually with me now drinking Rooibos tea (for those who don’t know I’m one of those awkward people who always has to explain I don’t drink tea or coffee when you ask me), which is a life-saver in the cold mornings; I also tried…biltong cheesecake. Yes. Sun-dried raw meat, with cheese made into a cake- what can I say, it was delicious! Rather like eating a slice of meaty Philadelphia? In order to be able to bring something to a games night I also tried making some biscuits and it felt like a mini-miracle when they didn’t come out undercooked on top and burnt on the bottom (though this did require flipping them halfway through so I have no idea how baking a cake will turn out). Oh and I had my first braai, which is the equivalent of BBQ- only it’s considered rude if you bring things like sausages or burgers; proper chunks of meat are the acceptable fare. I cheated and brought pudding. I have been told off though for eating too little however; you aren’t trying hard enough until you put on weight apparently. Probably to do with the fact that one of the few things to do in Clarens is to go for cake and coffee with people or go round to peoples’ for meals.

So many new bits of cultural information to remember! Me is a term of respect for older women, so you’d say Dumela Me [name] and if it’s a man then it’s Ntati. I can’t quite remember though what the English equivalent of Miss or Master would be… Also found out (too late sadly) that when you go into a room full of people it is your responsibility to welcome them and ask how they are doing. So when I went in to a room full of people I had no idea it was polite to do this and instead was the awkward English girl who interrupted a meeting to ask for someone I don’t know to invite them to a party that isn’t mine to meet people I also don’t know. After a very informative conversation over dinner the other day I have been told it is polite to leave your host alone and not offer help, and as the host it is polite to not ask your guests to bring anything, and when a child is being told off it is considered cheeky if they give you eye contact. There’s also the funny thing of not blowing your nose in front of people so it makes the kids eyes bulge in horror if you happen to do in the classroom…

Just to be very British I will give the weather a mention. We’re good at that apparently. After months of very dry weather and parched, dusty and brown landscapes (which is in a good many places burnt, and not always intentionally) landscape is now showing little sprouts of green here and there after RAIN! After becoming so used to rain in England being like an obtrusive and unwelcome neighbour who comes round every hour it seems, everyone here is actually excited by it. Very strange. With the continuance of blustery days here and there that cover everything with dust it will be nice when a bit of mud keeps it all together on the ground where it should be. I have to say the wind provides a welcome and refreshing breeze/gale that keeps me cool on my uphill biking struggle back from work, which dare I say it feels less like torture every time I do it. In addition to the excitement of rain (depending on whose perspective you’re looking from), there is also much debate about whether there will be a cold snap before the onset of summer, which can be summarised as very hot and very rainy.

Weird things that have happened to me so far include being chased by a chicken on my bike, calling the family dog Tonga when it’s actually Zara for a week (but the dog still responding to Tonga nonetheless), and being confused with a tall brunette teacher by the children, but I’m sure there are stranger things to come! In addition, I seem to be sharing my room with a large family of ladybirds because wherever I look I can see a couple. However, I’d much rather they were ladybirds than any other insect or arachnid! No sign of them elsewhere in the house for some odd reason… Please also remind me never to leave doing my washing too late as there will inevitably be some sort of mini plumbing crisis in Clarens where a pipe bursts and the mains for the whole town is turned off whilst it is being fixed.

It’s also been quite nice watching all the birds that have been feeding on bugs in the garden that I keep being told birdwatchers in England would give their right arm to see. From the quirky looking hoopoe bird, colourful doves, weaverbirds, buzzard-like birds I’ve forgotten the name of and many others. I’m still surprised by their colours that often involve rich yellows or green. The one bird I will definitely be keeping an eye out for is a sunbird as the closest thing to a hummingbird I’ll see here. The concept behind bird watching is that it’s a wonderful time-wasting hobby that fills the hours up here, though I do it alongside other things of course such as reading. Another bird which has something like a legend behind it akin to ‘how the leopard got its spots’ is the hadeda ibis; it’s a rather awkward and ungainly looking bird that makes a real racket when flying, which (as the story goes) is because they are afraid of flying.

 Highlight of my time here so far has to be going to the wildlife sanctuary/miniature zoo in someone’s extended garden and Golden Gate National Park. Seriously, where else would you be able to stroke lions and serval cats, and be invited back in a few weeks to play with lion cubs?! It was also a close encounter for my sock-monkey when trying to take a photo of it near a lion as it decided it wanted a closer look and almost swiped it out my hands. Also saw wildebeests, zebras, various horned antelope whose names I have yet to learn, and amazing landscapes. Oh and the most adorable jack russell puppy in a shop! What I’m going to say next may sound absolutely mad but being in an enclosure with ostriches was a more frightening experience than being mere inches away from a lion- I think it was something to do with their sheer height and unfortunate obsession with my coat and buttons which they kept pecking and grabbing with their beaks. I may be used to things or people being taller than me but at least they don’t try and pull my clothing off me whilst I’m backed into a corner haha. My friends and myself made a fairly quick exit out after that, and only then does the owner (who was our insane guide) say that actually ostriches can really harm you with a well placed kick and draw our attention to the big claw on one of their toes. Standard. 

Being used to British term times it’s been a rather surreal experience going to school on my birthday instead of enjoying a day at the beach and glass of wine in St Ives in the evening according to a long-standing family tradition. Thanks to the organisation of family and friends I was able to bring presents and cards with me to open on the day (I’m very proud of myself that I didn’t open them beforehand knowing for a certainty one present was highly desirable chocolate…). Thanks to the loving and thoughtful new friends I’ve made since being here I still had the awkward moment where everyone is singing to you, as well as a delicious meal and glass of wine, whilst others have anticipated wants and things I hadn’t even thought of myself. The weather was even decent during the daytime and the long-anticipated storm only emerged once I was safely inside a warm house, hurray! If it keeps only raining at night I will be very happy indeed. Being true to tradition I also seemed to have multiple birthday meals out so it’s been a very enjoyable week! Walking back from one of these I saw the stars in all their glory and even though I’ve stargazed at Land’s End I’ve never seen so many, or the Milky Way so clear. 

Slightly nervous to know that next week I will be tacking the imposing Mount Horeb to get my photo next to the ‘smiley face’ that is painted on a 30ft board near the top…

Hey everyone back in England and beyond!

So it’s now been over a week since I arrived in Clarens, South Africa and it’s been a lot to take in. I wake up with the stunning view of Mt Horeb every morning and more often than not at the weekend the eager faces of Tessa and Tonga (the two excitable but gorgeous border collies who belong to the family I stay with), before appreciating the fact that it gets light very quickly in winter, unlike England. The journey to the school is not a long one, but the socioeconomic difference between where I live – on the outskirts of Clarens in what can only be described as a gated and predominantly white area – and where most of the pupils live is vast. You drive on a main road through a hazy township of corrugated iron shacks or very small brick bungalows buzzing with children on their way to school and nonchalant chickens who are unaware of the irony they incur by wandering across the road! The odd cow or pigs are also a familiar sight, and today there were even sheep determined to walk in the middle of the road- this is as close as you will get to ‘dangerous’ animals you associate with South Africa in Clarens. However, if you are driving to the nearest town you may be lucky enough to see one or two buck, and on the way here from the airport I did spot the occasional ostrich.

I will admit that my Sesotho is awful and isn’t likely to improve anytime soon but I’m doing my best and can now confidently say ‘hello’ and ‘be quiet’. As seems to be a growing tradition amongst English arrivals in Clarens, the first word I was taught in Sesotho was mamina, which translates as snot. Charming. But sadly in frequent use haha. I’ve been able to find some familiar aspects that make my transition a bit more easy such as finding out that South Africans drive on the left hand side of the road, and as if in honour of my time in Cornwall the equivalent of ‘dreckly’ is ‘I’ll do it now’; if you want someone to do something immediately you have to say ‘now now’. The biggest cultural difference I’ve experienced so far is that everyone is very direct to others and there’s no British politeness or double meaning to what you say, which has created some comical anecdotes for those I work with. Sundays are also a very surreal experience the first time when you try to sing in a different language you’ve never read or experienced before, whilst jumping up and down or running around a room…

The school I’m volunteering at has been steadily growing since it opened and now caters for children up to the age of 14, though I’m mostly working with the UK equivalent of Year 5, 6 and 7/8. It’s a refreshing thing to be called Teacher Rosie rather than ‘Miss’ as it feels like there is still an acknowledgement of your status but there’s not so much of a barrier when building a relationship with the children. As it is, a lovely woman I work with acts almost as a parent in taking them to the dentist, giving them medicine, checking they are well etc.! As some of you may know I am awful with names but remember faces more easily, sadly this has been all too true since I’ve arrived and the lack of familiarity with common names hasn’t been helping me to remember them all but I feel I am beginning to get there (thank goodness!). So besides regretting my role in encouraging the children’s obsession with loom bands (meant as a healthier alternative to sugary sweets) I’m thoroughly enjoying my time there. The teachers are all welcome and more than willing to help you learn Sesotho phrases, local knowledge or even just the culture. Did I mention the children are extremely well behaved and hard working? What more could I want! 

            After my second week helping at a club run for children living in extreme poverty, or those who have been orphaned I’m beginning to get used to grabbing the children as they run in with big grins on their face and arms stretched wide in the expectation of a hug, or those a bit less forthcoming who still have a shy smile on their face as you hug them and ask how they are. It’s so very different from England it takes a few moments to take everything in at times, and that despite everything these children have been through their biggest concern as soon as you see them is to get the reassurance of a hug or to hold your hand. The nice thing is the language barrier becomes irrelevant.

            I’m hoping over the next few weeks to get used to the high altitude (1,800m) and feel less like I’m about to die every time I cycle to the school -- despite being a 10 minute ride away – so that I can go further afield with other cyclists I’ve met and see a bit more of the local area. Sadly without a car you are very restricted as to where you can go or what you can do especially as the nearest town is 24 miles away and everywhere in general is miles apart from anything else. Getting used to baking at high altitude would also be a nice thing as the first time I did it I had a mini identity crisis when half the biscuits came out burnt after only being in the oven for 5 minutes! Hopefully some pictures will follow shortly and capture the adventures of my sock-monkey.

Love and hugs to you all!